Poor Shadow Poem by Kristoffer Randolf Ramos

Poor shadow,
whose soul unknown,
looming in phantasm
of nights ambiguity.
The world has eyes, whose vision
bend with thy movement.
Stirring its imagination,
prisoner of shapes and light that hit.
Whose mind thinks of concrete illusion
that circumnavigate the soul and shadow in confusion


Poor shadow,
owned by soul hidden,
sneaking against noctilucent light.
The world is oppugnancy, deceived by its
ability to perceive light that flickers, a consciousness.
Who opt to see shadow as reality, and soul as blemish of fantasy,
judging soul by the dimension of thy perception.
Nascent enough to sense, to early to comprehend, and lame to tell,
what you see is what you get.